Know Thyself

When I thought about writing about my life, I knew I would have to draw upon negative and positive experiences that made me the person I am today. On my journey, many folks passed through….. few remain today. They are the ones whom I connected to spiritually. I believe spirituality is inextricably tied to a power greater than all of us. It is God who gives us compassion and empathy for other humans.

In reaching back, I had to put pieces back together that were lost when loved ones passed on. I had to relive the joys, pains, ups, and downs of a life well-traveled. In so many ways, I owe my survival to my late father. In his unique way of parenting, Daddy taught me self-discipline and the power of observation. He said survival in any environment would depend on awareness and quick decisions. I went into adverse places and situations comfortable as I was in a room filled with family and friends during my lifetime. My mother’s lifelong guidance/support through the tough times of my childhood loneliness, molestations, and adulthood addiction has saved my life. I was an adventurer, seeking unforeseen places, people, and experiences that took me to the brink of self-destruction. Growing up in Denver I was just a colored girl with optimistic views. The bumpy road took away that optimism, and I numbed the dark by active cocaine addiction. Without knowing, I also numbed the light and the ability to recover. Consequently, the emotional pain I attempted to bury evolved into an Invisible prison that was as confining as the one I was sentenced to for fraud offenses. There, I saw the light to follow the spirit inside me to a new beginning. An awakening began confined behind the walls in Stockton. Many considered it darkness. I do not.

Music was my refuge....I used the notes to float in and out of loneliness in my childhood, adulthood, and the insular spaces of cocaine addiction. My father introduced me to the soothing sounds of John Coltrane, Sarah Vaughan, and Miles Davis in the first year of elementary school. I had my favorites selecting them by the color of the labels on black circular 78rpm discs. While my mother worked, Dad taught me to count by playing dominos, to strategize and think ahead by playing Monopoly, and most importantly to defend myself against all weapons, mentally and physically. He was a strong disciplinarian, military in thought and action, concerned that I, his only daughter at that time would falter in the outside world. His tolerance for misbehavior was nil. He punished me by limiting my trips to the movies, hiding my books, or just fingering the belt he kept around his neck for the psychological effect. Rarely, did I experience the spankings promised. I was more a "Daddy's Girl" than "Mama's Baby". It was apparent a few months after my twelfth birthday when my father was arrested for a bank robbery sentenced to Leavenworth. I was stunned by his absence and had little to say to anyone.....especially my mother. I felt she was somehow responsible for keeping the secret about Dad's lifestyle and heroin addiction from. I had to read about it in the Rocky Mountain News.

Although Dad took me to visit his cronies in other neighborhoods, I was not privy to his drug use. He was employed, our rent paid, food and essentials provided. We never came home to items missing from the house; we didn't worry he'd spent grocery or bill money to support his drug habit. He did disappear for days at a time but when he returned he would spend quality time with Mom and I.

My mother's ideal of life for me was to be a clinging child she knew before my teens. With a frown, she would mount concern when I wanted to explore new and distant places. She thought I was fragile to the point of breaking(my asthmatic condition was her reason for knowing my whereabouts at all times). I played the sickly game with her until the limitations made it bothersome. Instead of being honest about my comings and goings and participation in sports, I fabricated trips to the library. She didn't question me because it was sanctioned place for her. I would go to neighbors' homes, downtown, or to City Park. Being inquisitive, I was on a constant search for information, and other neighborhoods outside the isolative space of home.

My inability to talk without reservations began about the same time as the outings. I wanted to say words to convey my inner thoughts but they seemed like dough before being baked into bread. Deep in my mind, I had unnerving feelings about boys. I just didn't feel the way other girls my age felt when I was in their company. I saw them as friends but nothing more than that.

"Forgiveness does change the past, but it can enhance the future>" Paul Bose